I see Dom in a million dangerous scenarios, each of them crueler then the last, with bullets whipping the air and blood blooming across the scene.
I push those images away, instead focusing on the way he stared confidently into me when he said we were going to have five children together.
I hold his face in my mind, his inky eyes swimming with certainty, his lips twitching into a compelling smirk.
And then I sink deeper into sleepy depths and the image shifts to Dom standing at a window, silhouetted by sunlight, with two children in his arms and three more stood around him, and with three dogs sitting there, shadowy with the gleaming yellow sun, and I’m watching them, a content smile on my face, sinking into the conviction that this is where I belong.
This is where I’ve always belonged.
I let out a contented sigh, sinking into the fantasy, as the dream-made Dom turns and pulls me close to him, wrapping his arms around our two children and me at the same time.
“You wanna go, boy?”
I wake to Dom’s gruff voice on the other side of the door, the sleepiness draping my body, telling me it’s late. I blink my eyes open and gaze around the dark room, a slant of pale blue moonlight shafting through the window.
“Dom?” I murmur, sitting up and glancing across the room.
He closes the door softly.
“Lucky wanted to take himself for a walk,” he says, striding across the room and standing at the edge of the bed. His muscles heave in the semidarkness, outlined just like they were in my fantasy, and the moonlight gliding across his silver hair.
“Oh, okay. So it’s just us.”
He nods. “Yeah. Move over.”
I giggle. “Okay, Mr. Bossy.”
He chuckles. “I need to lie down. I can’t remember the last time I slept. Even lions take naps.”
“I think they’re famous for it, in fact,” I tease as I roll to the side.
Dom drops onto the bed, letting his head fall back as he reaches over to me and pulls me into a hug. Heat flurries through me at how natural this feels, as I roll toward him and place my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat hammer through his hard muscles.
“Where were you?” I ask quietly. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…”
He strokes his fingers through my hair. “What did I say about being all anxious and shy, eh? You’re my woman. You can ask me any damn question you want.”
His fingers whisper along my scalp, sensation dancing down the back of my neck like tempting tingling touches.
“I was arranging to have the head of the Mafia arrested and for his second-in-command to take his place. That involved a hell of a lot of phone calls and logistical shit. People think the Bratva is all guns and violence, and sometimes it comes to that. But mostly it’s just an admin job. I’m glad to be back here, with you.”
“Is Lucky going to be okay?” I ask softly.
“Goddamn, I love your maternal instinct. Yeah, he has a little alcove in the main living room. I’ll show you tomorrow. It’s where he likes to sleep most of the time. There’s a dog door in there for him to go outside and do his business.”
“Oh.” Something in my chest sinks. “I’m sorry.”
He leans down and places a kiss on the top of my head, the intimacy of the gesture causing fireworks to blaze through me.
“Don’t be silly. You didn’t know. And he would’ve slept the whole night through if I didn’t come and disturb you.”
“Oh, so it’s your fault, hmm?” I tease, giving him a playful prod in the side.
I’m stunned by how natural it feels to jab him in his rock hard abs like this, as though we’ve known each other all our lives and not just…
A day.
I refuse to believe it’s been such a short time.
Flaring light moves through me every time I picture our future together, every time I envision our children and the life we’re going to bring into this world.
“Exactly,” he says, chuckling huskily. “But you better be careful who you’re prodding, Dreamer. I might have to retaliate.”
His voice is tinged with deep possessiveness, with a hint of what he’d like to do to me shivering beneath it all. I can decipher it because I’ll always be able to read my man, always be able to pick apart the shimmering need in his every word, his every gesture.
I know what he’s silently roaring at me, and part of me wants to tell him no, no, no.
I’m not ready.
But those are my nerves speaking, the same way they’ve dictated to me my whole life, ruling me when I should’ve let my fieriness and confidence surge up inside of me instead.
“What do you mean by retaliate, hmm?” I whisper, gripping his solid chest in a greedy fist.